


There’s a joke here somewhere and it’s on me

by FlatlandDan



Series: Dancing in the Dark [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlatlandDan/pseuds/FlatlandDan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Recovery period’ is a dirty phrase in Clint’s mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There’s a joke here somewhere and it’s on me

‘Recovery period’ is a dirty phrase in Clint’s mind. By two thirds of the way through what the SHIELD doctors say he needs he’s going insane. His key card locks him out of the gym and armory, and even if he could bypass security the AI has his fucking DNA stored and then there would be paperwork. ‘Paperwork’ might be an even dirtier phrase.

It was harder trying to do nothing at the Avengers mansion than it was at Stark Tower. He had two options at the Tower, sit in his room in his underwear watching porn or sit in one of the lounges in his underwear and watch reality TV. The former had the benefit of naked women and the latter the benefit of Phil Coulson showing up to hover disapprovingly.

“Anything I can do for you, Sir?” he asked, not taking his eyes on the television.

“Put some pants on Barton.” Clint grinned in reply. “No, really. Put some pants on. The interns have complained again and Fury is sick of this crap.” Phil flopped down on the couch next to him, a familiarity born out of an uncountable number of missions. He tossed Clint a pair of sweatpants and grabbed the remote, flicking through the channels. Clint shimmied into them (it had gotten colder, at some point) and even grudgingly accepted the blanket Phil casually dropped on him.

“It’s three am, there aren’t any interns up.”

“I’m nipping this situation in the bud”

“I’ll nip you in the bud”

“That is beyond inappropriate. Is there any chance you’ll go quietly to your room?” Clint laughed and made a grab for the remote in Phil’s hand, only to be neatly batted away. “Of course not.”

“It’s boring in my room.”

“If you just stayed in your nest and engaged from a distance you wouldn’t have to be sidelined.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Phil snorted in reply, pulling a couple of beers out of his jacket pockets. Clint hums happily as they crack the tabs and mock toast.

“Better luck next time Barton.”

But the thing was, he would settle after that. He would let Phil put on _My Super Sweet Sixteen_ and listen to the sound of rich teenagers who had everything he could ever have wanted scream about getting the wrong car. Sometimes he would let Phil shove him into his room after he’d fallen asleep, but mostly they would wake up stiff and feeling their age on the couch in the morning, a tactful cough waking them. No one ever mentioned it. Inappropriate happened to other people.

There was no Phil at the mansion. Just JARVIS, who had all the banter but not the shoulder to drool on, and so was a crappy replacement. No one cared if he walked around in his underwear because Tony did it all the time. Even he got bored of porn. What the mansion did have was an estate for him to wander around. Sometimes he could get away with a jog, depending on the level of recovery he was on, and when he could he usually ended up in the far archery field. He had found the field within a month of moving there and now, with its clover-covered floor and virtual silence, it was the most peaceful he knew. Even injured he would spend hours there searching the patterns in the green floor for a four-leaf abnormality, staying until the sun turned the world around him golden. He’d walk back slowly using the lights of the mansion as his guide. There was no hurry if he was in recovery. He would steal a big hardcover book from Bruce and press the four leaf clovers carefully and when they’re dry he mails them to Phil with no stamp on the envelope.

Eventually he’s back Stark Tower, off his recovery period and looking at a pile of paperwork generated by his injuries and letters with no stamp, Phil standing in his office doorway and calling him a dick. When Clint drops off the paperwork he won’t mention the bowl of paper-thin green clovers on Phil’s desk. He won’t mention that before the next mission he finds one glued to the inside edge of his quiver.

Inappropriate happens to other people and he’ll take his luck where he can.


End file.
